


With a Little Help From My Friends

by spideysmjs



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: A lot of alcohol and fears about growing up, And they are Trivia Night champs, Angst Lite, Betty Brant is a Good Bro, Betty's POV, F/M, Fluff, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Peter and Betty are besties, Rivals to Lovers, That is all, nonlinear storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: The chimes above the door shake, twinkling as three girls walk in, interrupting Freddy. He looks up from his trivia cards, Betty smacks down another shot glass of vodka, and Peter’s jaw drops almost instantly as if he’s been struck by Cupid’s arrow.Betty’s eyes follow Peter’s.She chuckles. They’re totally going to lose now.Betty and Peter are the reigning champions of Ray's Trivia Night... until they meet Michelle.
Relationships: Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Betty Brant, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797640
Comments: 40
Kudos: 105
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	With a Little Help From My Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to Day Two: ~~Enemies~~ Rivals to Lovers.
> 
> Super special shoutout to [mynameisbirdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisbirdie) for beta-ing this long shot. I can't express how much I'm grateful for her!!

When Peter stumbles backward into their living room, hands messily gripped onto a girl’s waist, Betty freezes, mouth full of fried tofu and legs crisscrossed on their worn-out sofa.

_Shit._

“You have a girlfriend _?_ ” the girl gasps, voice high-pitched and slightly slurred. “And you didn’t even _try_ to hide her?” 

“No,” Peter answers, frozen. “No, that’s just my roommate.”

“Hi,” she says after swallowing her last piece of tofu. “Sorry, I forgot Peter had a… date.”

(A glorified Tinder hookup).

“Peter didn’t even tell me he had a roommate,” the girl shoots back, sharp and telling. 

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles as his hands fall from her hips and brush through his own disheveled hair. “I didn’t think she would be home.”

“That’s still not a good reason to _not_ mention it.” 

“Sorry,” he says again. His date shrugs and slings the strap of her purse over her shoulder, murmuring something that sounds like _me too_. She tucks her hair behind her ear and heads back into the hallway – their hookup cut incredibly short. The door closes behind her as Peter sighs, his breath filling up the silence of the living room. 

“You know she kind of had a point there, Pete.”

Peter tosses his wallet and keys on their dingy kitchen table. “Shut up, Betty.”

* * *

In middle school, Peter and Betty had walked the same route home together because they lived on the same little street in Queens. Whenever Aunt May took double shifts at the hospital and Uncle Ben spent late nights meeting deadlines for _The Daily Bugle_ , Peter would stay at Betty’s house until he could go home.

Grandma Brant would make them grilled cheese sandwiches, and they spent their evenings plotting imaginary heists to steal all of Flash’s cool things, like his TI-84 calculator and his .05mm G-Pilot pen pack. They never followed through, but the ideas always lingered, providing much-needed daydream fodder for both of them when Mr. Lee’s English lessons turned into motivational lectures. 

“He wouldn’t even notice,” Betty would say as she waved Peter goodbye, Aunt May waiting patiently by the front door with a bag of takeout dangling from her arms. 

They’d perform their handshake — knuckles bumping twice and fingers swimming backward, a rocket launch noise filtering out of their mouths — and wouldn’t see each other until the after school the next day to do the same thing all over again.

“See ya later, Parker.”

“‘Til next time, Brant.”

* * *

For the rest of the workweek, the guilt of ruining Peter’s first night going out since his break up with Gwen lingers in Betty’s head. She’s standing by the bulletin board of her favorite coffee shop when she sees her solution: _Ray’s Trivia Night._

The flashy ad calls for fierce competition and neverending knowledge about trivial facts, and there’s no other duo in the world that is as fierce and knowledgeable as Betty and Peter.

When she asks Peter if he wants to go, naturally, Peter answers, “Betty, that’s like asking Isaac Newton if he wants to watch apples fall from trees.”

He runs off into his room to change, backing out only to say, “That story’s a myth, by the way.”

“I do not care about physics, Peter,” Betty raises her eyebrows and smiles, face strained from trying not to fondly roll her eyes.

  
  


With one hand tucked underneath her chin and the other swirling the small black straw in her Cosmo, Betty makes eyes at the bartender. He stares back, a smirk curling at the corner of his lip as he pours rum into a row of shot glasses. 

“Go get his number already,” Peter snorts. Betty’s smirk turns into a deadpan, turning around to smack Peter on the shoulder. He doesn’t flinch, the pain bouncing back to her knuckles as Peter dramatically sobs, “ _Ouch_.”

“Shut up, Peter."

“Why are you waiting so long? He’s gonna go make sexy eye contact with someone else in ten minutes if you don’t go for it.”

Betty tucks her hairband in tighter. “I’m here to win trivia night.”

“Good, we’re on the same page then,” Peter cracks his knuckles and grabs two markers resting in a rusty tin can that Betty’s sure violates all kinds of health codes. He smacks the markers down in front of her and says, “You know how serious I get about trivia, right?”

“Why do you think I brought you here, bud?” she scribbles their team name on the whiteboard in front of her. “Do you not remember who won the sudden death in our last ever AcaDec nationals?”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Peter looks over her shoulder, checking out the whiteboard. “Team Brant? That’s so _boring_. We should be...” 

Peter grabs the board, wiping the previous name to replace it with his idea.

“ _Quizness in the Front, Party in the Back_ ,” Betty deadpans, waiting for a beat before slowly applauding Peter and saying, “Let’s fucking do this.”

The feedback from someone tapping the mic on the makeshift stage makes Betty wince. When she looks at the host, she’s pleasantly surprised to see that it’s the same bartender from earlier. They’d snagged a table near the stage because Peter’s a teacher’s pet, so she leans forward to talk to him.

“Hey,” she says, “you know there’s a better way of getting a crowd’s attention than breaking the mic?” 

He laughs. “But I still got your attention.”

“Was that your plan?”

“Did it work?”

“Excuse me,” Peter interrupts, “when’s the trivia night going to start?” 

Betty holds in another sigh as the host says, “In five minutes.”

“Thanks, and what’s your name? My roommate, Betty, keeps referring to you as the cute bartender, and I think it’s time for you both to be on a first-name basis.” 

“Oh my God,” she helplessly lets out. 

The host shakes his head. “I’m Freddy.”

“Betty,” she smiles softly, the same twinkling look from before. “I apologize on behalf of my roommate.”

“I wouldn’t,” Freddy smirks. “I’m gonna go and get started on the game, but catch you later?” 

“Sure,” she says, leaning back against the booth. She sips her liquor as Freddy introduces Trivia Night to a loud crowd of inebriated young adults, all peppered near the stage with their weapons of dry erase markers and whiteboards at the ready.

Peter leans in, pulling Betty close to whisper, “They’re all going to get _schooled_.”

They win by a landslide. 

Betty’s standing on the seat of the booth whooping her fists in the air as the crowd roars in bemusement. Peter dances in his seat next to her, tapping her calves to make sure she doesn’t fall in a drunken accident. She catches her breath, using Peter’s shoulders to find balance making her way back to the seat. 

Freddy finishes cleaning up the stage, walking to the table. “Another round of drinks? This is on the house, Trivia Night Champs.”

“It’s not the same if you don’t say our formal team name, Freddy,” Peter says, Freddy sighing as he grabs his notepad and pen out of his pocket.

“What can I get for you both, _Quizness in the Front Party in the Back_?” Freddy rolls his eyes. Betty’s face feels warm, nervous at how reluctant Freddy is to repeat their team name. Lame. 

As he walks away, Peter pats his thighs saying, “Thanks for making me get out of the apartment, Betty. I hope you know I’m dragging you here every Thursday from now on.”

“Please, you know I’m always down to school these losers,” she waves to the other participants, who have already moved on from the game. “We’re going to sweep all of the wins.”

“Promise?” Peter looks at her, eyes swimming with a feeling of hopefulness – Betty understanding that this is the push Peter needs to put himself out there. 

“Of course, Peter.”

  
  
  


_Ray’s Trivia Night_ becomes their thing.

Every Thursday with no hesitation, Peter and Betty make their way to the bar and drop money on drinks and snacks to fuel them towards victory. Peter dominates questions on science theories, literature, and geography while Betty specializes in pop culture history and sports facts. 

Betty’s absolutely certain Freddy’s tired of them by the third week, but that doesn’t stop Betty and Peter from winning. Every single time.

On one particular Thursday, Betty gets to Ray’s first, Peter being held up at work from a deadline. She tucks herself into their established, unassigned spot, the Thursday night crowd avoiding that table knowing it’s _The Winner’s Table._ She looks at the stage, a new banner dressed in several clashing colors, the sign reading: GREEK MYTHOLOGY NIGHT.

The night is themed. 

Peter’s going to _love_ this.   
  


**bets:** dude. sos

 **bets:** come here NOW

 **pete** : is someone at our table?!

 **bets** : no dude lol

 **bets** : just get here fast, don’t be late

 **bets** : it's greek myth themed

 **peter** : holy shit

  
  


In just twenty minutes, Betty watches Peter run in, weaving himself through the crowded room. 

“Am I late?” he pants.

“Just in time,” Freddy says as he makes his way to the stage. “Okay everyone, let’s all get seated so we can begin. We have three teams tonight: Team Pokemon!”

A small group of college kids cheers. 

“Team We’re Here To Drink,” Freddy continues, a group of older ladies displaying their shots in the air before chugging it. “And team…”

Peter and Betty snicker. The crowd is already applauding the 4-time champions of Trivia Night. 

“ _Quizness in the Front, Party in the Back.”_

“Quizness for short, baby!” Betty yells, the rush of confidence and competition coursing through her. 

“Okay, so let’s get started. Question One–”

The chimes above the door shake, twinkling as three girls walk in, interrupting Freddy. He looks up from his trivia cards, Betty smacks down another shot glass of vodka, and Peter’s jaw drops almost instantly as if he’s been struck by Cupid’s arrow. 

Betty’s eyes follow Peter’s. 

She chuckles. They’re totally going to lose now. 

“Are we late?” one of the girls, the one with long, brown hair and an alluring smirk – the one that Betty _knows_ Peter is ogling at – rushes to the high table right in front of them, across the room. She shimmies out of her leather jacket, tossing it on the chair and gesturing to her two other friends to hurry up. As she tucks herself on the stool chair, Freddy allows their group to introduce their team name. 

“We are… The Champions,” she says. A breath of air leaves Peter’s mouth.

“Maybe that team name will give you the power to take the title from the reigning champs,” Freddy says. 

“And who’s that?”

“Us,” Peter practically shouts from their table, Betty already bracing herself to be publicly embarrassed for the umpteenth time. “Yeah, hi. We’re the people who are going to win.”

“Doubt it,” she deadpans Betty watches as she ties her curly hair back like she’s preparing for battle, oozing a competitive aura that no one else carries at Trivia night – no one except for Peter. 

Betty watches Peter, whose face is still struck by the competition, and snorts. If Peter was ice cream he’d melt into a sticky, messy puddle. He sends out an overly confident laugh and states, “This means war, then.”

“Stay focused, Parker,” Betty warns Peter. “They want to take our title.”

“I _am_ focused,” Peter huffs. No one’s going to beat us.”

Betty gathers all of her memories of Greek history, tracing her brain back to sixth-grade mythology. Peter keeps scribbling, erasing, and re-scribbling answers while Betty orders their fourth round of drinks. 

The room starts to spin as Freddy announces that there are only three questions left. Team Quizness in the lead by two, Team Champions just a touch behind. 

“This isn’t fair, they got here after the game started,” Peter grumbles, picking at the bin of crumbs from the nachos he ordered halfway through the game. 

“That’s not late,” Betty says.

“Do you even want us to win, Brant?” 

“Maybe if you focused on the questions,” she jokes. 

“What do you mean?”

“Team Champion’s champion,” Betty whispers, nudging him repeatedly. “You’ve been staring at her the whole time! She’s cute, Peter, but we have to win.”

“Hey!” Peter defends himself. “I am trying my _best_.” 

Betty’s eyes shift from Peter’s reluctance to the stranger, who’s shaking her head and smiling at something her two other friends said. Her complexion glows even in the darkness of the grimy bar, beaming like rare rays of sunshine on a cloudy day. “You have a crush on her.” 

“What?!” 

“Oh my God.”

“Please stop.”

“I’d be okay with losing if you asked her out.”

“She probably thinks I’m just some guy at a bar, Betty. And we’re not losing.”

“But I thought you wanted to put yourself out there?”

He shrugs. “I guess not tonight.”

Betty tilts her head, eyes swimming with curiosity as she notices the way Peter’s shoulders sink. She stops trying to convince him to make a move and instead, beckons a waiter to take their last order of shots. “Let’s save that winning title, Parker.”

He smiles and nods. 

“Name three goddesses that Paris had to choose from as the fairest of them all,” Freddy asks and adds, “Each correct goddess will be a point.”

Peter scribbles frantically, _Athena, Hera, Aphrodite_.

“Who is the origin for a physiological term that entails a fixation with oneself and one’s physical appearance or public perception?”

Betty knows this one, makes a joke that it’s Peter Parker as she writes _Narcissus._

“Am not.”

And she knows this but enjoys making him miserable anyway.

“Alright,” Freddy wraps up the night. “Looks like Team Quizness and Team Champions are tied. You know what this means.”

Immediately, both Peter and The Champions’ leader shout, “Sudden death!”

Peter doesn’t bother asking Betty if she wants to go up, hopping out of the table to meet the girl – who does the same exact thing with her friends – at the center with Freddy.

He looks fidgety, picking at the corners of his favorite flannel and refusing to make eye contact with her. But she looks directly at him, eyes intense from what Betty can guess is her third drink of the night. She looks ready to win, like she has all of the answers in the world for this particular night – like she has the answers for everything, really. 

Freddy takes out a janky buzzer and allows the two of them to exchange a handshake before introducing themselves.

“I’m Peter,” he says into the mic.

“Michelle,” the girl follows.

Betty sees Peter cross his arms and nod his head, an action she’s seen before when he awkwardly hits on people. She can picture the smug look on his face, but as soon as his competition, _Michelle_ , says something – the apathetic look on her face unwavering – Peter brings his hand to the back of his neck as he steps backward. 

He’s nervous.

“Ursa Major is a constellation shaped like a bear.” Betty can see the gears in Michelle’s head turning, a smile curling like she already knows what the answer is before the question is even asked. “Who, according to mythology, is the woman that turned into a bear and was later set amongst the stars by Zeus?”

Peter’s hand moves to the buzzer just two beats after Michelle’s, her hand trapped between the buzzer and his palm. She squints her eyes at Peter, her smile widening with pride as she answers into the microphone, “Callisto.”

Betty holds in a laugh as Peter ducks his head. Michelle whoops her fist into the air when she turns around to her friends, who are cheering loudly with their Stella Artois bottles shaking in the air. 

“Congratulations, Team Champions! You are the _new_ champions of _Ray’s Trivia Night_. Your first three rounds are free tonight.”

The bar applauds them, Peter walking back with a defeated frown glazed on his face. He huffs as he sits down and swallows the last few sips of his rum and coke. “We’re coming back next week.” 

“Obviously,” Betty cracks her knuckles. “Why _wouldn’t_ we go?” 

“I made a bet with Michelle that we’ll beat her next time,” Peter crinkles all of the used napkins on their table and tosses them into the bowl of nacho crumbs. 

“First name basis already?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter brushes it off. “She thinks she’s going to win and we don’t even know the next topic.” Betty hums as he rambles on. “She got lucky. I haven’t brushed up on my constellations for Greek myth in _ages_.” 

“I don’t think it’s luck. She’s smart.”

“Well, so am I,” he huffs. There’s a passion burning in his eyes – one Betty hasn’t seen in a while. It doesn’t take long for her to realize… Michelle challenges Peter. She’s exciting him in a way that wakes up the mentality he used to have in Decathlon, another place Peter shined the same way he had been tonight.

“Does your body hurt from being a sore loser?” Betty cackles. 

“Hey,” Peter frowns, pulling out his phone and catching up on messages as he talks. “It’s all in good fun. So we’re going to kick ass next week right?”

Betty looks at him before her eyes flicker quickly to Michelle. She catches her staring at Peter, lips tucked inward. “Yeah, okay.”

“We can bring reinforcements. I know a co-worker who can help.”

* * *

Peter was always quiet in high school – he never made friends outside of the staff and faculty, and he only talked to Betty at lunch when she didn’t have to film the Midtown Video Bulletin, which met three days out of the week with the A/V club. Their interactions at school were few and far between, their friendship only blooming in the tired hours after the final bell rang right before the sun would set. 

“I can’t believe teenagers are burdened with the goal of making _friends_ ,” Peter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as the two endured a particularly bumpy subway ride home. 

Betty rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. It’s not that bad.”

“It is when Flash spreads rumors about me having some sort of contagious asthma right before a school field trip.”

“Just shove your inhaler down his throat when we go to Oscorp tomorrow.”

“And then _I’d_ be the bully. I’d rather stay in the background.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Betty offered. “He’s just jealous because you’re smarter than him, even after his parents drop all that money on expensive after-school classes.”

“Thanks, Betty.” Peter ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to defend me with everything, you know?” 

She sighed, noticing the way Peter’s eyes were stuck on the permanent mud tracks embedded on the subway floor. “But I want to.”

The day after their field trip, Peter didn’t show up at school. Betty assumed it was because Flash “accidentally” backed into him during one of the controlled lab tours, which made his glasses fall out of his face and his camera snap in half, but once the second day came around and Peter didn’t show up again, she knew something was wrong.

Her texts went unanswered, and before she knew it, Peter was absent for an entire week – radio silent. Just as she’d had enough, she took a break from studying Punnett squares for her biology quiz and marched to his front door. But when she took those few steps across the street, she saw him. Peter was hunched over the stairs to the Parker residence with his face in the palm of his hands and his body shaking through rough sobs.

“Peter?” she whispered like anything louder would cause a chain reaction of chaos in the tranquility of the glowing moonlight and the stillness of their neighborhood. 

“Couldn’t stop it,” his voice broke. “Couldn’t do anything.”

“What happened?”

“–the cops,” he stuttered, inhaling sharp and quick gasps of air. “They’re coming soon.”

“Peter, you’re scaring me.” 

“It’s Uncle Ben,” he said. “It’s… he–he’s dead.”

She sat on the steps with Peter for hours that night even when the cops finally came, even when they left and Peter couldn’t bear to step inside. It was only when May came home and broke down on her knees that Betty left to give them privacy – not knowing that that night would be the last she’d hear from Peter for a long time.

Peter stopped talking to her after that night. 

He was more absent, physically and mentally, no longer showing up to classes on time or waiting for Betty to commute home. She didn’t even know if he ever went home anymore, decidedly avoiding reaching out, considering their past few conversations had only been a couple of text messages, Peter leaving Betty on read each time. His behavior was peculiar, yet she didn’t want to pry, knowing everyone had different ways of grieving. 

“Hon, can you take out the trash?” Grandma Brant requested after they finished their lasagna for the night. “Make sure you toss the recycling across the street.”

“Sure, Grams,” she answered, already tying up the garbage bag before stepping into the chilly spring night. The smell of spoiled milk and vegetables was distinct, making Betty rush to the alley next to her house faster than she’d run a mile in PE. 

As she made her way to the recycling bins on the other side of the road, she felt a presence lingering around her, the back of her neck sending warnings down her spine as she threw the bag into its designated area, tossing it quickly and turning around only to crash against a stiff body. 

Betty cried in pain, her head pounding from the collision. When she looked at her assailant, she noticed a familiar set of puppy dog eyes widened with panic. Peter had caught her by surprise, not by his sudden appearance, but by the red and blue colors he was sporting from his neck down.

“What the _fuck_?”

* * *

Betty stands arms crossed as she leans against the windows outside of Ray’s, waiting for Peter to meet her from work. His last text message had been full of typos, explaining that Jameson held him and his co-worker back due to a new assignment he’d needed to brief them on.

In Peter’s defense, Betty made the mistake of coming way too early (on time) knowing that her roommate almost always veers towards tardiness. She sighs, tapping her foot and pondering whether or not she should take a table, but peeks through the window to see Freddy leaning against the countertop. 

There’s no way she’ll go in there with a sober mind and absolute fear of embarrassing herself with her flirtation skills, or lack thereof – her only confidence coming from the invincibility that her signature Cosmopolitan with an extra shot of vodka gave her.

“Hey,” she hears a voice call out. When she looks up, she sees Michelle – from last week – seemingly here to keep the bet with Peter alive. Betty smiles at her and her friends, the same company she was with before.

“Hi,” Betty says. “Thank God you actually came or else I’d be dragging myself into a Harry Potter-themed trivia night with Peter for no reason.”

Michelle’s smile is something different when Betty mentions Peter. Then, Betty realizes, she probably already said too much.

“I just meant that he wanted to win this time,” she tries to save herself. 

Michelle ignores her blunder, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket as she asks, “You don’t watch Harry Potter?”

“I’ve never paid attention to it. I’m going to be zero help tonight.”

There’s a curiosity swimming in Michelle’s eyes as if Betty’s response lets her into a secret that she isn’t supposed to know. Betty makes a mental note to never mention this interaction to Peter knowing that he hasn’t shut up about Trivia Night since they got home from the last one, drunk and determined to brush up on Harry Potter facts the moment the theme was announced. 

If Peter finds out how much Betty revealed to Michelle in these five minutes, Betty will never see the end of it – even if Peter keeps pretending that his devotion to the craft of Trivia Night is just to win their little bet.

“Harry Potter’s been around a while, so.” 

“So you’re totally going to win the bet,” Betty states. “I’m already convinced."

“You should be,” Michelle quips – lips straight as a line and eyes still, making Betty nervous. “I’ll see you inside, then.”

Peter and his co-worker run to Betty five minutes afterward. 

“Finally,” Betty says. “They’re packed inside.”

“Why didn’t you save a table?” Peter catches his breath quickly. 

“Dude, how are you not tired from running four blocks?” his co-worker places his hands on his knees, breathing loudly. 

“I’m pretty tired,” Peter lies, eyes locking with Betty in a desperate call for help. 

“You must be Ned,” Betty puts her hand out for him to shake. Ned smiles and nods. 

“Betty?” he returns. “Peter always complains about how you leave your socks everywhere.”

“Ned,” Peter hushes him. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Ned shrugs. “So where’s this Michelle girl?”

“Is she in there?” Peter asks. 

“I may have seen her walk in, yeah,” Betty slips.

“Great,” Peter rubs his hands together. “It’s time to win.” 

As they wait for the night to start, Freddy makes his way to their table. 

“You never caught up with me last week,” Freddy says.

“Must have forgotten, sorry,” Betty says, doing her best to keep it cool and not wanting to embarrass herself in front of Peter or Ned. “I’ll catch you after.”

When Freddy walks away, Peter nudges her shoulder. “The dude’s clearly into you. I thought you wanted his number.”

Betty shrugs. The truth is, Betty doesn’t care for the number, but for the attention that Freddy gives her without her doing much – her presence alone garnering a free round of drinks for her, Peter, and Ned.

Ned praises her as he says, “You’re a queen, and we owe you.”

Her cheeks fill up with heat as she smiles. “I know I am, and yes you do.”

Three questions in and Ned excuses himself to the restroom, mumbling something about breaking the seal as Betty watches Peter and Michelle talk to each other near the bar. Her observations are interrupted with the wailing of Peter’s iPhone vibrating across the tabletop. She peeks over to see the Caller ID, her eyes widening when she reads it.

_Tony Stark_

“Shit,” she exclaims as Ned tucks himself next to her.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” she grabs Peter’s phone, the device still ringing.

“You gonna get that?” Ned raises one eyebrow. She nods aggressively as she excuses herself from the table pretending to answer the phone, and braces herself to interrupt the back and forth Peter and Michelle are sharing. 

“Peter?” she sneaks in as Michelle’s talking about how the movie adaptations ruined some of the characters, Peter agreeing with passion.

“What’s up Betty?” 

“You left your phone at the table and,” she says, her eyes already indicating how the night will be going for Peter. He sighs as Betty continues, “your _boss_ called and said that you need to come into the office.”

“I thought you just got off work,” Michelle states. Peter’s eyes widened. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re scared of losing to me?” 

“It’s always something new at the _Bugle_. And I’m not scared of you.”

“I didn’t say you were scared of _me.”_ Michelle purses her lips. Peter is speechless as she continues, “You may be shitty at Trivia, but you’re way better than a lousy tabloid job.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, running his hands through the back of his hair. “I gotta go. I guess we have to postpone this bet some other time.”

“It won’t matter, you’ll still lose,” she shrugs. Betty feels like she’s peeking into a conversation she shouldn’t be in, despite being the one to drop the news of Peter having to leave. “Doesn’t your co-worker have to go, too?”

“This is a different assignment,” Peter provides a lousy excuse. God, how does no one know his superhero identity at this point? He stutters, “Ned and I do reviews together, but this one is.. _Current events._ ”

Michelle nods, not hiding the disappointment in her voice when she says, “See you, I guess.” 

Peter frowns. “I’ll text you.”

When he rushes out of the bar, Betty taps her fingers against the countertop pretending to read the menu, time passing before she says anything to Michelle. 

“You know, he really wanted to be here tonight,” Betty offers, the pitch of her voice going higher as she says, “His boss is just the worst.” 

“I don’t care,” Michelle deadpans. 

Betty blinks. “Oh, okay. I just thought–”

“I meant, I don’t care that he wanted to leave or anything, you know. It’s fine,” she says. “You don’t have to fake an emergency call for him or anything.”

Betty knew she shouldn’t have inflected her voice. She really _is_ awful at hiding things. “Oh, no…”

“I get it if he has other plans. I don’t even know him. It’s just a stupid bet.” 

“No, it’s not like that,” Betty does her best to sound as genuine as she can, knowing that for Peter, this isn’t just a bet. “I promise.”

Michelle curls her lips for a beat before saying, “Okay.” 

Betty has to lie to Ned when she returns to their table, saying May called Peter last minute. The night had been a bust before it even began, the buzz of her one drink fading away already, removing any energy to hit on anyone. She begins stuffing her phone and wallet into her purse, but Ned stops her.

“I mean, I came here to drink and answer some questions,” he says. “With or without Peter.”

Betty laughs. “You think you can beat Team Champions?”

He cracks his knuckles, ready to play. “Definitely.”

Michelle’s team still wins. 

* * *

Betty walked out of the bodega across from Peter’s dorm hall with two bags of sour gummy worms and the largest size of blue-raspberry slushie she could find, but she knew there weren’t enough grams of sugar or empty calories to cheer Peter up. 

Peter and Gwen fought often after their one year mark, always about the same thing – a secret hidden in blue and red, and for as much as Peter wanted her to know, his life as Spider-Man was blocked by a line that he never dared cross.

She had always advised against Peter dating – ever since she found out about his double life being the reason why he turned into what Betty believed was an awful friend, only learning after that the transformation into a web-crawling superhero wasn’t an overnight success, but a patchy journey. 

But even if Betty knew it, no one else did, and to anyone else, Peter was just a flake. 

And therein laid the problem for Gwen. The due diligence of Spider-Man strained their relationship in a multitude of ways, Peter always showing up late or never showing up at all to their dates and bailing out of their plans to the point where Gwen would no longer make plans.

That week was particularly awful: Peter’s lab practical for organic chemistry on Thursday, his physics exam on Saturday, and an Avengers mission to prevent a bank heist in between. Gwen had organic chemistry with Peter and wanted to study, but when Tony Stark pages you to meet him at the facility upstate, there’s not a lot of saying no involved. 

But this time, Peter didn’t just bail. Peter _forgot_ to tell her.

Betty reminded herself to flick Peter in the ear when he opened the door to his dorm.

“What was _that_ for?” he frowned, rubbing the tip of his ear despite Betty knowing it probably felt like a pinch to him. 

“Consider it as your payment for buying you all of this junk food.”

“I’m allowed to drown in shitty candy if I’m sad.”

“So are you just going to drown in shitty candy forever?”

Peter sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair, throwing himself onto the twin-sized bed tucked in the corner. “Betty, I don’t know how to fix it this time.”

She lingered against the door frame, arms crossed after tossing the bag of candy in Peter’s direction, watching as he buried his face into the palm of his hands – an action Betty’s seen too many times before. Although everyone has witnessed the physical strength Spider-Man can withstand, only Betty understood the resilience Peter Parker exuded every single day.

If only Gwen knew how hard he really tried. Peter had never looked smaller than he did in that moment, shoulders slouched in defeat as he sat on his bed in the single dorm room he’d worked his ass off in the summer to save up for. Betty inched across the room and placed herself at the foot of his bed. 

“Maybe it’s because you can’t fix it, Pete.”

“But shouldn’t I keep trying? Isn’t that what love is? Working hard to keep things together?”

Betty paused for a beat before she said, “Think about May and Ben.” Peter shut his eyes at the mention of his uncle’s name. “Did it ever seem hard for them?” 

“No, not really. Sometimes, I guess. But for the most part, they were always happy.”

“Love shouldn’t feel like hard work, Peter,” Betty responded as Peter ripped open the first bag of gummy worms.”Maybe you need to tell Gwen the truth.”

“And endanger her life if anyone ever found out she’s involved with Spider-Man?” 

“Don’t you think that’s her choice?” Betty grabbed her favorite red and blue worm from the plastic. “You know, if she was all in, she’d choose to stay despite your shortcomings.”

“I guess. I’m scared to take the risk.”

“It’s a risk _she’ll_ be willing to take if she takes it. But she can’t if you don’t give her the option.”

“Maybe I will,” Peter mumbled. “Thanks, Brant.”

“Anytime, Parker.”

Betty should have known better, realizing that Peter’s strength to always pick himself up translated into every facet of his life, and the work he endured to keep his relationship with Gwen stable ended up catalyzing their eventual downfall. 

Three months after that conversation, Betty knocked on Peter’s door, _three_ sour gummy bags in one hand and a bucket of blue raspberry slush in the other.

* * *

“The _best_ Cartoon Network show has gotta be _Totally Spies_ ,” Ned pridefully answers her question, Betty giggling at the image of a four-year-old Ned watching fashionable cartoon spies kick ass. 

Hanging out with Ned is like New York City in May, the brisk air an encouraging push to smile — to bask in the sun. He’s definitely like the sun.

Betty checks her watch. Ned mentioned that Peter got held up at work, but she knows it’s definitely not for the _Bugle_. When Betty watches the other table across the poorly lit bar, Michelle taps her phone. Maybe she’s checking the time just like Betty is. Or maybe she’s not even thinking about Peter. 

She’s hard to read, the biggest quality Betty can place is Michelle’s confidence. The air around her is certain, and each sentence she speaks calculated. Purposeful. 

Michelle nods at Betty. 

Crap. Betty waves back and nudges Ned, who follows suit. 

“That’s the girl that Peter can’t stop talking about at work,” Ned says. Betty turns to him immediately.

“Spill,” she demands. He chuckles, cracking his knuckles in between each other — still a touch uncertain. “Ned, I’ve been best friends with Peter for over a decade. I know he has a crush on her.”

“It’s so obvious, isn’t it?” Ned squints. She nods. 

It’s no surprise that, after exchanging numbers with Michelle, Peter’s been sharing random facts and snippets of their conversations to Betty. 

_Do you think I should try going vegetarian for a week?_

_Do you think Michelle studies the Trivia Night subject before Thursday? No? I didn’t think so. I think she’s just that smart._

_Do you think she’d say yes to a date?_

_Betty?_

_(Just ask her out, Pete)._

“The moment he invited me to this in order to ‘win a bet with this awesome girl’ I just knew my boy had feelings,” Ned laughs, hand on his chest. He really cares about Peter. 

“I think he’s just too afraid to go for it,” Betty rolls her eyes. “Typical.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” Ned shakes his head. 

When Peter limps through the door, no one else notices. But being roommates with Spider-Man, Betty can see the tiny wince of pain Peter tries to hide after a big injury. _It’s no big deal — it heals right away_ , he told her in high school when he’d first learned how to navigate his superpowers, and when he had been more talkative about the superhero gig.

Now it’s his own world, something Peter had said was a lesson he needed to learn all by himself. She doesn’t mind. She never liked hearing Peter's horrific stories in the first place, much less about her best friend.

“Hey guys,” Peter waves, though he quickly nods his head, with zero subtlety, towards the direction of Michelle’s table and glides over. Freddy’s wiping down the bar counter for the next bartender’s shift before switching over to his _Trivia Night Host_ title. He not-so-subtly winks at her.

Betty offers a weak smile, looking away quickly to see Ned staring at her. “What?”

“Huh?” he blinks. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” she shakes her head, looking down and suppressing the smile burning across her face.

Peter sits down next to Ned, a smug air around him. “Look, it’s Cartoon Network. I used to watch that channel with my uncle on Saturday mornings after baking banana bread. I got this.”

To no one’s surprise, by the end of the game, the teams are at a tie. And sure enough, the sudden death question about Teen Titans is swiftly snagged by Michelle with impressive speed, later telling Peter she dressed up as Raven two years ago for Halloween.

“Team Champions are Champions yet again!” Freddy announces, heading over to Michelle’s table to shake their hands and offer them shots. 

“What did you bet again?” Betty asks the moment the crowd’s applause begins to die down and Peter, shoulders deflated, drags himself back to Ned and Betty.

“Thai food takeout,” he pouts. “It’s okay. We’ll win next week.”

Betty and Ned catch each other’s gaze. Just as Betty’s about to make the _sickest_ burn of her life, Michelle approaches their table. She keeps the same look of nonchalance painted on her face, but as soon as she sees Peter’s grumpy attitude, Michelle smirks.

“That’s two,” she says.

Peter scoffs. “Bet you can’t win three in a row.”

“You’re reaching at this point, bud,” Ned interjects.

“Listen to the wise man,” Michelle gestures over. “Just give up one night of underpaid overtime work.”

Peter begins to worry. “What?”

“ _The Daily Bugle?”_ she answers. The grip Peter has on the edge of the table loosens. 

“Oh, right. I’ll use my PTO if I have to.”

“ _PTO?_ For _me_? Brave.”

“It’s for the Thai food, MJ.”

 _MJ?_ That’s new. And adorable. Ned nudges her. She feels warm, a cranberry vodka-infused mixture of watching Peter and Michelle interact and sharing the same amount of excitement with Ned. 

“Maybe it is, which is why you won’t run away this time. For the food.”

Ouch. The wince of embarrassment sketched across Peter’s face says it all. “I won’t run away.”

Betty’s in distress. She can no longer witness this conversation unfold. Her phone starts getting more attention. Their voices are muffled if she focuses really hard. Is Michelle already being skeptical of Peter’s oddly times disappearances? Smart girl. Maybe she _is_ the one. 

“Why don’t we all take shots?” Ned suggests. “One round of whiskey on Peter?”

“What?!” he gasps. Michelle chuckles at his shock. Betty debates if she can handle another shot. 

“Oh, Freddy!” Michelle calls out. Betty tucks her hair neatly behind her ears as he walks over. Ned’s laughter slowly fades. 

“How can I help my favorite customers?”

“I’d love to order a round of Jack Daniels shots for my friends here,” Michelle says. “And I’d love to know what next week’s topic is so I can crush Peter _again_.” 

“You already won the bet,” Peter says. The tone of his voice is new, a sound unheard of — like a newfound longing for home.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t win another time,” she retorts. “Freddy?”

Freddy scribbles the order of shots on his notepad and shakes his head, laughing. “It’s _Star Wars._ ”

“Oh, it’s going down,” Peter pumps his chest with his hands. Annoying. “ _Star Wars_ is my shit. And Ned’s shit.”

Michelle raises her eyebrows. “That’s awesome, Parker. Glad you exchange common shits with Ned.”

“Hey,” Peter says. Their conversation slows down, Michelle nodding towards her friends who look like they miss her. Betty understands because she’ll miss her, too. 

“I can’t wait for you to buy us Thai food,” Michelle says before walking away.

“It’s a date?” he offers. She stops in her tracks and turns back around. 

“Sure,” Michelle shrugs. “But…”

“What?”

“If you miss it,” she starts trailing off. “You’re making it up with another meal.”

Ned applauds when Michelle’s out of sight. Peter still shushes him. And when Freddy comes back with the round of whiskey shots, they groan because they’d forgotten all about it. 

Betty downs the glass in one go, pinches her face as a chaser, and opens her eyes to Michelle. She’s cackling at Peter coughing after his shot. 

They’re definitely coming back again.

* * *

“How was your first day?” Betty crawled underneath her Grandma’s quilt blanket after balling her socks up and hiding it under the couch. 

“Jameson’s an ass,” Peter grumbled. “I can’t believe I’m being paid to listen to someone insult Spider-Man every day.” 

“At least you’re getting paid?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It also helps me spot potential villainous threats ahead of time. Efficiency, Betty.”

“And it’s absolutely not an awful idea to potentially expose your identity by working at a newspaper company that’s obsessed with Spider-Man?”

Peter pondered for a beat. “Nah.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

“Speaking of the more exciting aspects of the job,” Peter interrupted their silence, “I have a pretty cool co-worker I think you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Betty peeped her head up from the couch to where Peter stood by their kitchen table. 

“He likes _Star Wars_. He’s insanely skilled in UX design. And he showed me a mashup video he edited for their website called _5 Times Spider-Man Saved the Day_.”

“I thought the _Bugle_ hates Spider-Man.”

“Jameson hates Spider-Man. His employees like me, though.”

“Well, be careful, Pete.”

His chipper attitude faded away, a frown creeping on his face. “Why do you keep saying that?” 

“I just don’t want you to be caught up because you’re so close to crime in both the jobs you have.”

From his safety to his relationships with people — Peter needed to be cautious, always. Not everyone had the opportunity to know Peter’s secret. Not everyone would keep it, either. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he promised. 

* * *

“I need like. Red bull,” Ned drags the wooden chairs across the grimey floor. Why do they frequent this dingy place, and why does she kind of love it anyway? “Today there was a deadline. But then Spider-Man had to go and fight some Rhino on the street three hours before publishing.”

“Newspapers are pretty outdated, Ned.”

“Yeah. We have our website and app and all, but Jameson loves publishing the Friday morning papers still, something about how it all started there,” Ned explains as he grabs the waiter’s attention. “Plus, Peter had gone to the field to take pictures, but he didn’t come back for a while.”

Betty swallows. “Did he tell you where he was?”

“Said he went home early. Got caught in the rubble of the fight. He sent some sick photos though. I don’t know how he gets such good close-ups of Spider-Man.”

“Peter’s always been into photography,” Betty says. Ned smiles at her as the waiter takes their shared order of loaded fries and two IPAs, opting out of hard liquor until Peter arrives. 

“Yeah, he told me you were in the Video Bulletin club in high school.” 

Betty nods, hoping Peter only had good things to say. 

Ned continues, “I was, too.” 

“No way,” she laughs. The waiter comes back with the sloppy, searing hot plate of fries, just the way Betty likes it. 

“This is probably the best drunchie meal ever,” Ned passes her a fork. 

As they dig in, Peter walks through the door. 

Immediately, he heads to Michelle’s table. An entire week has passed since Peter lost their bet from Trivia Night, but he still hasn’t asked her to get Thai food together. Betty had held in her opinions, knowing the last time she tried to convince Peter to follow her advice, she ended up ruining his first ever one night stand from Tinder. 

But not letting herself say anything about Peter’s obvious stalling only made witnessing the sight right before her eyes even more embarrassing. 

“Hey, I think you two should stop being friends with this Parker kid,” she slides into their conversation naturally. Her voice makes Betty feel warm. “He’s a Class A Flake. Need more convincing?”

“Nope,” Betty pops her p. Ned shrugs. 

“Wow, really Betty? After nearly a decade of friendship?” Peter frowns. 

“It’s been more than a decade already, dumbass.”

“Time is a social construct?” he offers. She takes the rebuttal and slides Peter the rest of the IPA because she feels bloated.

“What was the theme tonight anyway?” Michelle breaks the lingering silence shuffling forward and back, before standing still with her arms crossed like earlier. 

“You don’t remember?” Peter gasps and wears a shit-eating grin. He starts humming the Darth Vader theme song or whatever. Michelle rolls her eyes.

“I don’t prep for these things,” she brings her arms down to her sides. “I’m just that smart.”

“I knew it,” Peter whispers. 

“What?”

Oh, it’s embarrassing. Peter’s red even in the dimly lit building. Michelle looks pleased. 

“I just know you’re smart,” Peter smiles, hands awkwardly finding a place to hide. 

“You too,” she nods at him. “See you on the sudden death round, loser.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. After he scoots his chair closer to Ned and Betty, they cast him similar looks of anticipation. Peter blinks. “What?”

“You haven’t asked Michelle out?” Betty starts. “You’re gonna miss your window of opportunity. She’s going to lose interest.” Ned nods in agreement. 

“We talk like, every other day,” Peter shrugs. “She just links me to a lot of NPR podcasts. I listen to them when I’m swinging around the city on slow patrol days—”

Betty’s eyes widen. Ned audibly gasps. 

“Shit.”

“Swinging?” Ned asks. Betty immediately scans the crowd. No one’s close enough to hear them, but she hushes him anyway. Just in case. He looks like he’s going to explode with excitement like he’s been waiting to solve this mystery. “What the _fu—”_

“Alright you _Star Wars_ fanatics and esteemed Trivia Night attendees, welcome back.”

There’s an encouraging rush of cheers from the crowd. They love Freddy. It’s kind of ridiculous, Betty thinks. 

He does a rundown of the rules, but it’s only after Peter misses an easy question when Betty notices he’d been frozen still with fear ever since Ned’s realization was cut short by Trivia Night. She scans his face. The circles around his eyes have a tinge of purple lying underneath his translucent skin, and his cheeks are rosy from the cold weather. He looks tired. 

Now that she thinks about it, he did have a long week. The deadline, the Rhino, and any other trivial ass shit that Parker Luck bestowed onto him. Ned works hard on scribbling questions moving forward. He seems comfortable with Peter still — like nothing has changed since discovering his secret. Maybe that’s the exact attitude Peter needs in his friendships right now. 

Betty trusts Ned. She just feels it. 

Peter doesn’t even make it to sudden death — The Champions won with six points more than their team. They couldn’t even come up with a catchy theme-based team name. Betty catches Michelle peering over. 

“You lost again dude,” Ned says. “Were there higher stakes?” 

“Just another dinner,” Peter answers. “I’ll make the time. I’ll do it.”

“Mhm,” Betty tests him. He groans. 

“Shut up, Betty.” 

“Hey, I trust Betty. We have the same opinions on everything,” Ned defends her. She tries not to blush. 

“Kiss ass,” Peter says, but there’s no venom to it.

Ned smirks. “Jerk.”

They laugh. Boys are weird. 

Somehow, they’re two more rounds in. Ned and Betty spend the passing time hyping Peter up to talk to Michelle.

“Why else would she be coming back to Trivia Night?” Ned suggests. 

“To get free alcohol because she’s smart and capable? Not everything people do is to impress others.”

“Absolutely,” Ned agrees. “But _the Bet,_ Peter.” 

“The dinners,” Betty echoes. “Ask her to get late-night Thai, or take her to Totto Ramen.”

“Didn’t they close down years ago?” Peter asks. 

“Okay, well some other place that’s open and serves heartwarming food.”

Peter sighs and throws his head back as if it will wash away the obvious nerves he gets from finding the courage to finally ask Michelle out. She is interested, Betty can tell, and Peter knows that. 

She’s always wondered what Peter thinks about when he likes someone. But she’s certain the fear almost always comes from his double life. He’d already been heartbroken before. And if Peter’s concern isn’t about himself — which it never is — then it’s about the safety of his friends. He always panics when Aunt May calls on Wednesdays because she has her late-night shift at the hospital and doesn’t usually get home until 2:30am. 

The fear of asking Michelle out is leagues more than just being shy. For someone who goes with the flow, Peter’s decisions have such a specific path that it’s almost inevitable to think ahead. The action to connect with someone comes with the burden of risking their safety. 

Especially if there’s a new murderer in the city with rhino-shaped technology. 

“Fine,” Peter says. “I’ll ask her right now.”

Both of them watch Peter walk away. _Finally._ The night has come. This calls for a celebration. Betty slips her hand off the table and on top of the bench, except instead, it falls on top of Ned’s.

She finds that she doesn’t want to take her hand away. His pinky brushes against her palm. The touch feels nice. 

Ned walks Betty home right after Peter and Michelle head out of the bar to get Totto Ramen. It isn’t closed down. They talk about work — what Ned does at the _Bugle._ (He’s a Lead IT. He pioneered their app, which just released its beta download.) 

She doesn’t ask him inside, but she leans in and balances on the balls of her feet when he kisses her. 

They laugh and say goodnight. 

They’ll see each other soon. 

Despite her head spinning with visions of drunk flashes, Betty perseveres through the night to finish her skincare routine. As she pats her face down with moisturizer, she hears a rattle of keys and a door nearly slamming against the wall. There goes the last ounce of their security deposit. 

She swings the bathroom door closed and locks it. Betty hears the door close — this time more quietly — and a shuffle of feet sliding down the hallway. Peter and Michelle take turns hushing each other, whispering _be quiet_ as they make their way down the hall. 

Betty smiles to herself. 

Only two hours into her slumber does Betty wake up from her terrible, drunken sleep. There’s heavy footsteps, the touch against the floor quieter than bare feet, like some type of stealth material.

Peter has an emergency. Betty shuts her eyes again and hopes it’s a dream. She wonders what he told Michelle, wonders if she left, wonders if Peter’s going to be okay. 

When she wakes up the next morning, Betty’s pleased to stroll out of her room and see Michelle sitting at the kitchen table. But she’s not pleased to see Michelle worried, her hand pressed against her forehead, elbow propped on the table.

“I can make us coffee,” Betty offers. Michelle looks up in shock but softens into a nod. 

The room is silent. Betty doesn’t mind, though. She enjoys quiet Friday mornings, especially ones where she doesn’t have to go to the office, so she can cook breakfast for herself. And for Michelle, if she’d like. 

“So does he just… always leave in the middle of the night and not come back?” she asks, although it sounds like she knows. Not just the answer, but… 

Michelle _knows_. And she adds, “I hope this doesn’t mean he lost the fight. Those can be really ugly, and I can never finish Spider-Man fight videos on the _Bugle_ website.”

It’s hard to tell if she’s freaking out, or if she’s perfectly fine. Betty realizes she hasn’t said anything in a minute. She tries, only to slip out, “Oh.”

Nice one, Brant. 

“Yeah, um.” Betty wants to bang her head against the countertops for not knowing what to say. “Peter always comes back. And he heals pretty fast. He hasn’t failed me yet.”

She probably shouldn’t have included that last word because the breath Michelle lets out is heartbreaking. 

“Michelle,” Betty sits down on the uneven chair next to her. 

“You can call me MJ,” she mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ears. She’s wearing one of Peter’s science shirts. “What were you going to say?”

Betty’s smile softens. She takes the hand that was pressed against Michelle’s forehead and lets it rest on the table, slowly and tenderly as she promises, “Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

* * *

“I don’t know, Betty. I feel really weird about meeting up with the Tinder girl tomorrow. I don’t think I’m ready to put myself out there,” Peter landed himself on the couch, still in his suit but his mask completely removed. 

“No one’s telling you what to do,” she said. “It’s your choice to put yourself out there.”

He groaned. “But then I have to blame it on myself if it goes wrong.”

“You blame everything on yourself.”

Peter nodded. 

“Look,” she put her laptop on the coffee table, ignoring her website interface design for a moment to take their conversation seriously. Staring at him more only revealed to Betty how long it had been since she looked at Peter and he was content. She took a deep breath. “I think this is a great thing if you’re comfortable. You’ve both established you’re not looking for anything serious. A mutually assured casual hook up.”

Peter looked stunned. “A what now?”

“It’s a Tinder hookup, Peter. If you are comfortable and want to do one night stands and the other party feels the same way, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m just worried,” he expressed. “What if I don’t… find someone else for me? You know? Someone who will be there in the morning when I come back from patrol all fucked up looking.” 

“You’re putting too much pressure on this _first_ ‘date’ and you’re overwhelming yourself,” she said, calling him out. “Breathe.”

He swallowed the air. He choked on some dust. “Just a date. No commitment. We agreed to this.”

Peter had broken up with Gwen over a year ago. He didn’t figure out how to balance his superhero life with a romantic life, saying Gwen deserved more than having to wait around. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth about his identity. 

“You got this, buddy,” she tapped his shoulder as she retired to her bedroom. “I’ll stay out of your hair tomorrow night.”

* * *

Peter comes home and shuts off the ongoing stream of _Property Brothers_ on Hulu.

“Hey, I was watching that,” Betty says from the couch, wrapped in a burrito blanket with the coffee table pulled next to it. She was eating chips and guac earlier, living in celebration of her work raise. 

“As much as I love Drew and Jonathan,” Peter tosses the mail key and stack of bills onto the coffee table, “we’re leaving for Ray’s in an hour to celebrate _you_.”

Still perfectly wrapped in her blanket, Betty sits up. They haven’t attended Trivia Night in almost half a year. “Do we have to? It’s just a raise.”

“Betty Brant, you owe yourself a lot more kindness,” he says. “We always celebrate milestones. We went out for drinks last month when Ned published the official _Bugle_ app.”

“But that’s worth celebrating. One more dollar per hour is not,” she lays back down.

“Your boo thang would hate hearing you say this about yourself,” Peter says, singsongy, and still not using the word _boyfriend_ because Ned hasn’t really asked her to be official, but Betty also doesn’t hint at anything ever.

The two are taking things slow, despite discovering all the quirks and habits they had in common (binge-watching _Property Brothers_ being one of them, at the very top of their lists). 

“You’re one to talk about self-deprecating attitudes.”

“Yeah, but MJ laughs at my jokes,” he smiles, big and bright. Since their first date, Betty’s watched Peter grow into the comfort of his relationship with MJ, and though time has passed, he still can’t help but mention her in any conversation that they have.

_MJ really wants this blender for her morning smoothies. Is that an appropriate six-month gift? I’d get her jewelry but I feel like blenders have more efficient use._

_Did you know there’s a conspiracy theory that the Eiffel Tower brainwashes people? It sounds random when I say it, but MJ tells the story better._

_I ended up getting her both the blender and necklace. Am I too much? Betty?_

_(No, Pete. It’s sweet)._

“Look at us,” he sighs. He finds a crack on the couch that Betty hasn’t occupied. She lifts her feet and throws them over the back, leaving space for him. “Good jobs, in relationships, paying bills. We’ve come a long way from plotting to steal Flash’s shit.”

“Yeah, now you lock people up who do that,” she snorts. 

“You mean villainous murderers in high technology suits that go around killing innocent citizens of New York?” 

“Exactly what I said, Peter,” she kicks the back of his neck softly, then sighs after a beat. “But we really are grown up.”

“Which is why we’re going to Ray’s. Who knows how many more years we’ll have living the satisfyingly average life we have by being locals at a bar?” 

The joke is hilarious, but Betty’s heart sinks at the thought of _another_ next chapter in her life — one where she graduates from Cosmopolitans and flirting with bartenders for free rounds. She’d been trying to shake that habit away already, but Ned always wants free drinks. 

“I’ll get ready,” she whispers.

When they get to Trivia Night, they’re a little late. There was a headband malfunction when Betty rushed herself to get ready because Peter was guilting her for always being the last to leave.

“Watch what you’re saying, you’re still the Class A Flake,” she yelled from the bathroom as the headband got stuck in her hair. Peter had to help her take it out. 

MJ and her friends are already here. They suggested a team vs. team, just as they first started out — when Peter aspired every week to beat her in Trivia Night and he would grumble about how Trivia Night was his thing, and how dare someone be better than him at a thing? Yet, that frustration was fleeting, Peter turning into a pile of goo at the mention of Michelle’s name just a week after they exchanged numbers. What a doofus.

The groups sit next to each other this time. Betty met Cindy and Liz a couple of months back, one of the nights they went to Ray’s to celebrate. They’re sweet, both of them tease MJ in the same way that Betty and Ned tease Peter — mostly about each other. 

Cindy’s talking about how her ex-girlfriend finally gave back her Switch after three weeks. “She tried to gather all of these other things I left at her place, but it’s just a toothbrush and the blanket I always bring to the office.”

“How long were you together?” Peter asks. 

“A little over a year,” she says. “It’s cool. I’m better off.”

“You tell em, Cind,” Liz adds. 

“Getting over someone is easy,” MJ says. Betty freezes, and she feels Peter’s arms tense up. “Delete any trace of them in your life. Pictures, social media, gifts. Burn it if you want.”

“That’s a very definitive choice,” Peter says. “You think about that a lot?”

“Not because of you,” she tells the truth, even if it’s not what Peter likes hearing. 

“Oh, okay,” he shrugs.

Ned, who scans the circle quickly, starts a new conversation. “So, Betty got a raise!” 

They all cheer for her. Peter goes into their intricate handshake naturally. Freddy makes his way to the table and congratulates her when they tell him the news. Ned slings his arm around her, and she laughs because she remembers confessing to Ned about trying to get Freddy’s number before.

It’d been months since then, yet life feels as if it’s passing by. Betty can blink and the next six months flash before her. It’s an uneasy feeling, being aware of adulthood and the ever-changing life she’s going to live out. 

Something about tonight seems significant. Maybe it’s one of the last times Betty will have this specific feeling at Trivia Night with her best friends, living out the experiences that they share together. Like this night is a microcosm of the future that Betty knows nothing about. 

She has a raise, a _boo thang_ , and her lower back pain has been driving her a little crazier than usual. 

Unlike most Trivia Nights, Betty’s mind is elsewhere. She can’t even remember the topic of the night – something about young adult literature, and she whispers to Ned that she’s drunk every ten minutes to make him laugh. 

She sneaks a glance at MJ, whose eyes are laser-focused onto the whiteboard as she scribbles an answer to Freddy’s final question.

“Name the four actresses that play the famous March sisters in the 1994 adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s _Little Women_. Each correct answer gets one point.”

“Fuck, I only know the new one,” Peter mumbles. “Do you know?”

Betty shrugs. “Winona Ryder?”

“Isn’t she the mom in _Stranger Things?_ ” 

Ned scoffs. “Don’t disrespect Winona Ryder like that, man.”

MJ answers all four actresses correctly, and because Peter _clearly_ does not read or enjoy classic literature, there isn’t even an option for sudden death.

He really had no chance.

  
  


When Trivia Night ends, Betty, Peter, and MJ make their way back to the apartment. Betty heads immediately to the bathroom to rinse herself to sobriety. She refuses to go to sleep without doing her skincare – she’s too grown for that now.

With the door ajar, she can hear Peter fake grumbling as MJ suggests a murder documentary. Betty hears something along the lines of, _you always get to pick!_ and a response of _you fall asleep halfway through anything we watch anyway._

Their laughter echoes down the halls, making the entire apartment fill with joy and life. 

Betty walks into the living room after her nightly routine to see Peter dozing off in front of the TV, MJ playing with his hair as his head rests on her lap. 

Sometimes, Betty sits on the recliner and watches murder documentaries with MJ. 

They’ve spent a lot of time together at the apartment alone, Peter running off to swing around the city in his blue and red suit or going overtime at _The Bugle_ because Jameson’s down his neck about a deadline. More times than not, he isn’t even home by the time he tells MJ to come over. 

The first time it happened, a little over one month into their relationship, Betty’s heart sang as she overheard MJ say, “I’m already here. I’m hanging out with Betty, which is the only reason why I come anyway, loser.”

Most of their time together is spent in front of a sitcom. One time, Betty convinced MJ to watch HGTV, and she was surprisingly hooked. But sometimes, when the world isn’t kind to either of them, their time together is spent in anxiety and panic, in fear that the boy who brought them together won’t come back. 

MJ wakes Betty up in the middle of the night after their celebration at Ray’s. She pretends to be asleep when MJ pokes her shoulder softly, but she had already woken up the second the wooden floors squealed from MJ’s footsteps. 

Betty flutters her eyes open slowly to meet MJ’s worried gaze. She’s never seen them like that, glistening against the reflection of the moon. Betty’s heart sinks, her body rising and immediately making room for MJ to lay next to her.

“When did he leave?” 

“Just ten minutes ago,” she whispers. “Who’s Norman Osborn?”

“Oh,” Betty breathes. “It’s this— it’s this businessman who-”

“Is Peter going to be okay?” 

She looks at MJ, seeing the invisible wall surrounding her crashing down — revealing herself to Betty in a way that lets her know this moment is something special. A turning point. MJ rests her forehead on Betty’s shoulder, holding back what sounds like sniffling.

“Yeah,” Betty hopes. “Yeah, he’s got this.”

The two of them lay still in the bed for what feels like hours, MJ slowly letting go of her tense muscles, allowing herself to sink into the mattress – her anxiety wavering back and forth every few minutes. Betty gets it. She’s experienced Peter’s AM disappearances for years, and while she’s gotten used to Peter dipping out and coming back through the window bruised and scarred, MJ hasn’t.

Betty feels MJ’s leg shake softly and quickly, realizing she’s forgotten what it feels like to be in fear of Peter not coming back, simply because he always has. 

“He’s going to be back tomorrow,” Betty says.

Underneath the sheets, wrapped in Betty’s blankets, she hears MJ whisper, “I will be, too.”

After the night passes – as the sunlight slips into the apartment that feels even more like home now that Betty and MJ sip on mugs of coffee at the crack of dawn – there’s a stumble that echoes from the back of the small hallway. MJ stands up quickly, nearly spilling her brew on the table, apologizing quickly as she runs to Peter. 

Betty turns around, witnessing MJ jumping into Peter’s sweaty arms, kissing him on the forehead as she asks, “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

Peter, eyes black and blue, looks like he’s dreaming. “You’re still here.”

MJ slips away from him. “Where else would I be?”

Betty turns back around, letting the two have their private moment. Her heart flutters, stomach full of love knowing that Peter has someone to come home to.

* * *

“How could he just betray his uncle like that?” Betty cried out, her head resting on Ned’s lap as the credits of _Avatar the Last Airbender: Book Two_ rolled out. “How dare you make me care about this show?”

“I _told_ you it’s good,” Ned bragged, leaning over to grab the bowl of strawberries sitting at the coffee table. “Next episode?”

“Duh,” she said. She propped her mouth for a piece of fruit from Ned.

Before they could start the next season, Peter swung the door open, headphones tucked into his ears belting out lyrics, “Baby! Take me! To that! Feeling!” 

“Wow, he’s actually not that bad of a singer,” Ned nodded his head approvingly. 

“He tried choir freshman year of high school,” she whispered, lifting her head to watch Peter skip around in the kitchen. “And when it comes to CRJ, he _doesn't_ miss a beat.”

Betty couldn’t remember the last time Peter walked through the door with such contagiously happy aura around him. After looking at her phone, she noticed the date marked one month of Peter and MJ being official. He must have come home from her place. 

“Have a nice night there, Pete?” she asked as he moved closer to Ned and Betty. Peter pats Betty’s leg, making her take less space on the couch. 

He sighs, a blissful sound of breath escaping his mouth. “Wonderful night.”

“Quick, Ned, turn off the TV because Peter’s going to talk about MJ for _hours_ ,” Betty teased. 

Peter immediately accepted her banter. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Aww,” Ned gushed. “What’d you guys do?”

“I went over to her place,” Peter grabs the entire bowl of strawberries. “We cooked pizza. Or I did. MJ’s a pretty terrible cook, which is the best because I don’t like it when people help me cook anyway. Betty knows this.”

“The only time Peter and I ever fought was senior year when we were assigned to bake cookies for the Academic Decathlon fundraising and he got mad at me for suggesting to buy Nestle Tollhouse cookies.”

“Baking cookies have to start from _scratch_ ,” he argued. “MJ liked the pizza, but she said my dough was too thick and she’d rather buy pizza from a store next time which is what we’re probably going to do next weekend.”

“She’s so honest,” Ned observed.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled – his eyes glistening with something Betty’s never seen before. “She is. On our second date, she told me she knew I was Spider-Man.”

“Well, it’s not that hard to figure out,” Betty mumbled. “You think she’s going to tell her friends?”

Peter, without hesitation, replied, “Never. I trust her. I—I think I…”

Betty tilted her head at Peter – the look on his face wasn’t hard to read. Peter has come a long way from dragging Betty and Ned to Ray’s every week just to see her. 

“Think what?” Ned asked, clueless. 

“I think she’s really special,” he says. “I’ve never met anyone that makes me feel like I’m… Like I’m myself. And it’s okay to be. You know?”

Ned and Betty shared a look, his eyes softening at her. “Yeah, I get you.”

“I don’t know. I think this is a good thing,” Peter said, voice still uncertain – still unsure about whether or not to take the leap into this budding relationship. “I’m–I’m right. Am I right?”

Peter directed his question to Betty. Betty, who had witnessed Peter’s highest highs and lowest lows. Betty, who had talked him into and out of problems regarding romance. Betty, his best friend, who was slowly beginning to understand the significance of this moment — the significance of Peter’s realization that he’s in love. 

Moving forward, Betty knew everything would change after this. The two of them had graduated from bar hopping and dating apps, finding people that make them love harder and stronger than they ever had before. 

It had been an exciting rush knowing that after that day — after Peter and MJ’s one month anniversary — Betty knew in her heart that what her best friend has with MJ is something of strength. It’s a strong force of love that she’d always known Peter to have, having been raised by May and Ben Parker. 

What Peter and MJ have, and what they will have, is everlasting. Betty had known this ever since MJ beat her and Peter in Trivia Night all those months ago. 

“Peter,” Betty said after pulling herself out of her thoughts, “You’re absolutely right.”

* * *

“Betty, if you keep getting ready at the pace you are now, we won’t even be able to make the last call,” Peter says from the living room, voice muffled by the bathroom door. She rolls her eyes at his melodrama, clicking on her phone to see that it’s only 9pm, and Ray’s doesn’t even have a closing time.

For _some_ silly reason, her heart sinks knowing that these little moments are what Betty will miss the most after tonight. It’s not as if Betty thought they’d be roommates forever — it’s that she didn’t think Peter moving would happen so soon. Granted, they’d been living together since halfway through college, and maybe after five and a half years, it’s time for the era to come to an end.

She’d never mentioned it to Peter, though, knowing he’d mention moving in with MJ nearly every day after he broke the news to Betty. There’s a rapt knock on the door that snaps Betty out of her thoughts. She sighs, cracking the door slightly open as she says, “Peter, you bothering me is literally only going to slow me down.”

“Ugggghhhhhhhhh,” he stomps away. She pushes the door open wider, peaking into Peter’s room across. The light coming from the bathroom leaks into his room, revealing nothing but carpet and disheveled boxes. 

Betty checks the time again, takes a deep breath, and heads to the living room. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Let me get my wallet from my room,” Peter says.

She shoots him the biggest glare. “Are you serious.”

“What?” 

“Why didn’t you have that already!”

“It takes like _five_ seconds Betty.”

“That’s not the point,” she shouts. 

Once Peter pulls himself together and finds his wallet, their walk to Ray’s is quiet, both of them staring at their own feet as they get to the bar. 

“So, you all packed?” Betty asks.

“Absolutely not,” Peter answers. “MJ’s gonna kill me.”

“Absolutely,” she swings the door open for the both of them, walking into the bar like it’s a time capsule of all the memories Betty and her friends have made there. Two years of Cosmopolitans and endless rounds of whiskey, fierce trivia night competitions, and overzealous celebrations after winning — everything happened here.

“Hey,” MJ calls from their table by the front of the stage, nodding quickly with her signature smirk painted on her face. Ned, who’s next to MJ and across from Liz and Cindy, waves his hands in the air. 

Betty makes her way around the table, hugging each of her friends before grabbing a stool and sitting at the edge of the table. Liz tucks her hair behind her ear before asking, “So, are you two excited for your new apartment?” 

MJ and Peter look at each other for a beat before facing their friends, nodding in tandem. MJ grabs her bottle of Lagunitas, bringing it to the air before finishing the last few gulps. She deadpans, “I can’t _wait_ to share a bathroom with this guy.”

“You’re gonna love it,” Peter teases, nudging her. MJ rolls her eyes, Betty noticing that slight tug of her lips, the fondness on her face flows like a hidden stream in the middle of a forest. 

“I am,” she admits. “And Betty can shamelessly leave her socks lying around without you patronizing her.”

Betty purses her lips and nods in agreement. “He always shames me for my socks as if he doesn’t come home smelling like New York City sweat.”

“So, like home?” Peter suggests shamelessly. MJ giggles to herself. 

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Betty quips. 

There’s an unpleasant sound coming from the mic, the gang wincing at the volume. “So-sorry.”

Betty looks up at a bartender prepping the stage – a stranger that she doesn’t know. It truly has been a while since they’ve all gotten together at Ray’s. 

“Who’s the new guy?” Ned asks, eyebrows scrunched.

“Why? Do you miss your best friend Freddy?” MJ says. 

“Not cool, man. I thought I was your best friend,” Peter frowns. 

“You are,” Ned says. Betty gives him a side-eye. “But you are too, babe! Love you!”

“Love you too,” she rolls her eyes. 

“Okay, everyone,” Freddy’s replacement grabs the crowd’s attention. “Hi! I’m Bryan. Welcome to Ray’s! It’s Wednesday night, so you all know what that means.”

“Trivia Night!” the crowd yells. MJ scrunches her face, Peter’s eyes go wide with wonder, and Ned starts cracking his knuckles. 

“Trivia Nights are on Wednesdays now?” Betty asks.

“Guess so,” Peter says. “...Betty?” 

She looks over to him, his eyes smirking with a plan that screams mischief and competition. “Say less, Pete.”

He scoots closer to Betty’s spot at the center of the table. “We’re gonna kick ass.”

“Clearly,” Betty searches for an empty whiteboard, leaning down from her stool to grab one from the stage. She scribbles their old quiz name like it’s muscle memory, looking up at MJ whose arms are crossed, casually watching. “Want a whiteboard?”

MJ shrugs. “Nah. I wanna be on your team.”

Peter and Betty exchange looks as he says, “Well, now we’re definitely gonna win.”

“This is the alliance we’ve all been waiting for,” Ned announces. “Who knew it’d take, like, what? Two years?”

Has it really been that long? 

“And now you’re moving in together!” Cindy claps her hands quickly. “I love it.”

Before Peter and MJ can say something to deflect the focus away from their move-in – despite it being the reason for going to Ray’s in the first place – the bartender begins Trivia Night by calling out different teams.

There are three other groups going against their alliance. They look young, drunk, and ready to have fun. Betty rubs her hands together. Too bad these kids are about to get schooled. There’s no theme tonight, which gives their team a chance to combine their specialties – Peter in science and math, MJ and Liz in history and literature, Cindy and Ned in technology, and Betty in pop culture. 

“Are you sure we’re going to win against these youths?” the pitch of Ned’s voice gets higher. 

“I don’t care if they’re 21 or 51, Ned. We’re gonna win,” Betty says almost automatically, her competitive drive jumping out of her chest. 

Shortly after, Peter and MJ both lean in, cracking their knuckles as they simultaneously say, “I got this.”

They win by a landslide. 

The rest of their night is measured in empty shot glasses and nacho crumbs. Betty gets up on the booth and drags Cindy with her, the both of them whooping the air after they’re announced the winners of Trivia Night – the reward now being ultimate pride and joy (since Ray’s doesn’t hand out free rounds anymore). After using Ned and Peter’s shoulders as leverage to get down, Betty’s out of breath and there's a dull ache in her back.

“Okay that’s it,” she says, plopping back down next to Ned, “I’m never getting up on the booth ever again.”

“The end of an era,” Peter comments, making Betty’s heart break a little bit more by reminding her of everything that’s coming to a close. It’s the first thing he’s said to actually address his moving out. Betty looks at Peter, his eyes are glossy from liquor and memories. “I’m gonna miss this.”

“Ray’s is still gonna be here,” Ned pats him on the back. Peter looks over to Betty. They hold each other’s eyes for a beat, both of them understanding the heaviness of Peter’s statement. Betty nods at him slowly, a small solemn smile tucked in her lips.

Betty gets it. She really does.

“Shit,” Liz says, checking her watch. “It’s midnight guys. I have work tomorrow.”

“Oh, and the movers and I are going to be at your place by 7:30am tomorrow,” MJ says to Peter.

“And I still have to pa–” Peter stops midway. MJ gives him a side-eye before he finishes his sentence. “Pat Ned on the back for being such a wonderful co-worker.”

MJ playfully rolls her eyes. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve been eavesdropping, and the college kids are begging the bartender to start up some karaoke.”

“It’s about to get _wild,_ ” Cindy panics. “We’re outta here.”

Betty stacks the empty plates and cups in one area making sure the table isn’t too messy. Ned grabs her jacket for her, draping it over her shoulders as they shuffle out of Ray’s. There’s a little buzz in her head, but the cold wind nearly knocks the alcohol out of her. At the front of the bar, MJ, Cindy, and Liz huddle as they wait for their Uber to take them home. 

Peter walks over to MJ, pulling her away from her friends for a moment. He rests his forehead against hers, whispering something that makes MJ smile, the front of her tooth sticking out as she giggles. It’s a look that, by now, Betty has confirmed can only be seen when talking to Peter. 

Ned slips both hands into Betty’s, pulling her into a hug as he says, “You gonna be okay?”

She sniffles as she jokingly answers, “Yeah, babe. Ray’s is still gonna be here.”

“And so is Peter,” Ned reassures her. “He’s your best friend.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I know. I just—” 

“Okay, ready to go home one last time Betty?” Peter playfully nudges her shoulder. 

Betty takes a deep breath as she stops herself from frowning. “Let’s go, Pete. Bye, babe.”

“Bye babe!” he cheerfully waves. 

“Get home safe, dude,” Peter calls out while they walk in opposite directions. 

When they get back to the apartment, and to no one’s surprise, Peter begs Betty to help him pack the last boxes in his room. She shakes her head, yet obliges — wanting to spend as much time with her best friend before they stop being roommates forever. 

Peter’s deep in the crevices underneath his bed, pulling out old textbooks and binders from college. “I can’t believe I still have this.”

“Your old college textbooks?” Betty says as she rolls up Peter’s clothes to place into suitcases. “I can believe it. Your nerd ass said you want to keep them for memories and light reading.”

“No, look,” he calls her over. When she sits next to him, crisscrossed by the foot of his bed, he tosses a small stack of old film prints. “This.”

Betty blows the dust off the top picture: a brightly lit photograph of May and Peter cheesing widely. The lighting is awful because Peter tossed Betty the camera and didn’t tell her she needed to adjust settings. It was May’s birthday — her first birthday without Ben. Peter asked Betty to help him bake a cake for May. After that, it became a tradition.

As she shuffles through the prints, Betty realizes they’re all from high school, a rush of memories flooding her brain all the way to the brim, and finally, tears flow from Betty’s cheek.

“Hey,” Peter says. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “It kind of just hit me all at once that life’s going to be different not living with you.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about it since I told you.”

“You have?” she raises her brows. “Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know,” Betty answers. “You’re just so excited to move in with MJ.”

“I am!” he says. “I just. I don’t know. I’m gonna miss you, Betty. You’re my best friend. Even if you leave your socks everywhere.”

She shakes her head and smiles, wiping her tears away as she says, “I know. I’m gonna miss you, too, Pete. And I’m so happy that you’re happy. You deserve it.”

Peter runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah. No need for break up gummy worms and Slurpees anymore.”

“No?” Betty smiles, her heart warm and fuzzy at the thought of Peter and MJ’s future. 

“Nope,” he says. “She’s the one, Betty.”

She knows. She sees it every day. She saw it the moment MJ walked into Ray’s for the first time and beat Peter at his own game, teasing him relentlessly and placing bets. She saw it when Peter had left in the middle of the night when MJ first stayed over, only to wake up and see MJ still there. 

MJ is always there, choosing to be by his side – rooting for him despite how late she makes herself stay up in fear of Peter not coming back. And she does all of this without question.

And Peter — Peter’s grown. It’s like Betty threw him out the door to put himself out in the world, and he claimed himself confidently, coming back a different person. MJ brings the light out of him, washing away his fears.

“She really is,” Betty smiles, tossing the stack of photos back on Peter’s lap. “Let’s finish packing or else it’ll be 6:30am and _you_ won’t be the one.”

“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” he says. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

  
  


Betty feels a tap on her shoulder, her arms sprawled on top of her face as she groans. “What.”

She can feel Peter’s breath near her face as he whispers, “The movers are here, Betty.”

Her eyes widen, his words like an alarm waking her up completely. She lifts up from the bed and stretches, screaming into the air as she yawns. 

“Good morning Betty,” MJ pops her head in. “I’m gonna miss those yawns.”

Betty rubs her eyes. “I’m gonna miss you too, MJ.”

“Now when Peter ditches me to go and be a superhero, I can’t walk over to your room and bother you.”

“You were never a bother, MJ.”

“You guys had sleepovers while I was patrolling?”

“Yeah, and we gossiped about you all the time,” Betty says. “I told MJ all of your secrets.”

“That explains a lot,” Peter says. “I have to grab two more boxes and put them in the truck, but I’ll be back.”

When he leaves the room, Betty’s scrunched up in her bed and MJ moves closer. Betty taps the mattress asking her to sit. They’re silent for a moment, both of them blushing at each other as they speak at the same time.

“Listen I–”

“I can’t wa–”

“You go first,” MJ says. 

Betty swallows. “I can’t wait to visit your new apartment when it’s all ready. I’m so happy for both of you.”

“Thanks,” MJ looks straight down as she grins, picking the chipped paint off her nails. “Listen, I’m gonna miss you a lot, Betty. You were always there for me.”

Betty tilts her head. “I’m always going to be here for you, MJ.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” she grabs MJ’s hand and squeezes it. 

“Thanks,” MJ mumbles. Betty watches her carefully — a different look on her face that Betty’s never seen. MJ says, “Is it weird that I’m nervous?” 

“You should be. Your new roommate is the _worst_.”

“I can hear you!” Peter shouts from the living room.

“I wasn’t hiding anything!” Betty shouts back. She finally gets up from her bed, offering a hand to MJ to pull her up. They link arms as they walk to the living room to catch up with Peter. “Everything all packed up?”

“Yup,” Peter says, hands placed on his hips. “Hey, can I meet you by the elevator?”

MJ looks to Betty and then to Peter, nodding as she says, “Of course.”

There’s a stillness in their apartment, both of them taking in their last moment together as roommates. Suddenly, Peter embraces Betty – arms squeezing her so tight she can barely breathe. She jokingly whispers, “ _Help_.”

“Shut up,” his voice is muffled before he lets her go. He offers his hand, and the look on his eyes tells Betty exactly what they’re going to do next — their knuckles bumping twice and fingers swimming backward, a rocket launch noise filtering out of their mouths. Peter chuckles, “Thanks for everything.”

She walks him out of the door as she says, “You too.”

Peter smiles at her one more time before he turns around, catching up to MJ. Before walking down, the two of them look back at Betty and wave. 

Betty shouts, “See ya later, Parker!”

Peter laughs and returns, “‘Til next time, Brant.”

He brings one arm around MJ’s waist as they walk into the elevator. MJ jokingly taps his arm away at first but leans into his arms. As the doors close, she witnesses Peter kiss MJ’s nose quickly, the sight of their love so strong that it brightens the entire hallway.

Her best friend has now left — off to start a new journey with someone Betty is certain will be there for him through everything. From the bruises and scars, or the late night deadlines at the _Bugle,_ to the milestones of promotions and victories, MJ will be there. 

And everything is going to be okay.

Betty promises. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Happy Friday and Day 6 you cuties! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed ♥


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